Fugitive
by Mr. GOP 88
Summary: Wherein our hero is accused of a heinous crime. Is he guilty or innocent? Can the team do their job and still help out a friend? My OC's from my last story are here. Same first and third person pov's.
1. Man on the Run

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well, here we go again folks. Finals are over so I have some time to write. This is a little different than Planets. Hope you like it. Please read and review if you'd be so kind._

**Chapter 1: Man on the Run**

Sirens are blaring. The NYPD is everywhere, on the streets interviewing people, talking to shopkeepers, and stopping tourists to ask questions. Helicopters are searching from the skies. Headquarters have been set up at JFK, LaGuardia, and Grand Central, trying to have a presence at each of these centers of mass transportation. The police are showing everyone the picture of the man they are seeking. Unlike in other chases, this isn't some grainy security camera shot taken by chance. Nor is this picture done by a sketch artist; scribbled out after talking to unreliable witnesses. This picture is a photo, one they've had for years. Right now, it is the most famous face in New York City. The _Times_, the _Post_, all the local news stations, even some national networks are showing the picture of this suspect. His name is one of the top searches on Google and Yahoo. The Mayor, the District Attorney, and the Police Commissioner have all denounced him. Normally, I'd be with my team, using the resources of the Crime Lab to track him down. Normally, with my team's full support, I'd be sure we'd catch him. Normally, he'd have no chance of getting away, and justice would be served.

Except…

Except…

Except this time, the object of the most intensive manhunt in a decade, the most wanted, hated man in New York City is…

Me.

***

"Attention all units! Be on the lookout for the suspect, Detective Mac Taylor."

"Detective Taylor has just been spotted heading towards the Staten Island ferry."

"We have sightings of the suspect heading into the subway in Brooklyn."

"Another citizen just called in. She says he is in Astoria in Queens."

"Someone just saw him near Wall Street."

Detective Don Flack doesn't even try to keep up with all the chatter coming across the police radio. Like almost everyone else in the City, he is on the chase. Pursuing a rogue cop is bad enough, but this time it is different. This time, Flack is on the trail of a man he used to consider a very close friend. That makes this betrayal all the worse. Flack was going to support Mac all the way, but then he ran. Innocent men don't run from the police. Something in Flack tells him that he needs to know why. He is determined to hunt Mac down and get the answers out of him, personally.

Flack is driving down Madison Avenue when he thinks he spots someone. The person is shorter than he is, older, and has the bearings of a military man. Flack pulls over and gets out of his car. He catches a closer look at the man. He is almost within arm's reach. It's Mac.

"Stop right there Mac!" Flack says over the din. Mac looks over and the two of them lock eyes for about a second. Then, he starts running.

"Damn it Mac!" Flack curses as he takes off in pursuit.

***

The crowd starts to panic as I run as fast as possible. I need to get away. I can't get captured by Flack or anyone else in the NYPD. At least not yet. I need time; time to sort everything out. I cannot and will not face my team in handcuffs being led to prison.

So I run, frantically weaving through the crowd, pushing people aside only when necessary. Flack is a younger man than me; simply outrunning him isn't going to work. I need a more solid plan if I'm going to escape. However, I'm not going to do something that could put the lives of these innocent people at risk. I'm already on the run for one crime; I'd rather not add any more charges.

Racing down the street, I don't look back at the chaos my presence here has caused. I'm passing by the busy corporate offices on Madison Avenue, hoping the large crowds impede Flack's progress. I keep glancing at the buildings to my left, hoping that they can offer me some kind of hiding place. Two large steel buildings have an alley between them that leads down to an underground parking garage. I dart into the alley as quickly as I can, and now I hear the sound of Flack following me much clearer now. The problem is he's catching up.

I keep running through the alley into the parking garage. This is my best shot at losing him. I make my way through the place and hide in one of the darker areas. I squat down in a well concealed hiding place. Every muscle in my body is tense.

Flack is searching around, carefully peering into every nook and cranny. Flack has a steely look in his eyes. He is a hunter, and I am his prey.

For what seems like forever, he looks in the direction where I'm hiding. I don't think I can breathe.

Except for the sound of his walking and the pounding of my heart in my ears, it is silent throughout the garage. Flack is searching another area when a car comes speeding around the corner, nearly hitting him. Flack and the driver start yelling at each other, giving me precious time to make my escape. As quickly and quietly as I can, I head back towards the entrance of the garage and nonchalantly make my way into the foot traffic, going unnoticed.

That was too close. It won't take Flack long to figure out I'm gone, if he hasn't already. I need to find some place to hang low for a while. The place I can think of is anything run-down; the type of hole that won't ask any questions and won't talk to the police. These less than savory places are not what New York City likes to show off to the rest of the world. Places that I would avoid as a cop.

Sadly, they are the only places I can go now.

***

"Detective Bonasera, your team cannot be involved in this case."

"Chief, the NYPD needs the resources of the Crime Lab to…"

"Save it Detective. You know full well how it would look to have the Crime Lab in on this."

"Chief that is unfair, we are professionals. You have to let us do our job."

"I'm not hearing it Detective. You will return to your regularly assigned cases and we will inform you when he is apprehended. I'm also sending over some people from IAB to ask your people questions. If you want to have your lawyer present, that is your business. But, I do expect your full cooperation with their investigation. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Look, this is a tough, almost impossible situation for this Lab, I know that. But we have to do everything by the book; otherwise the press would crucify all of us." Sinclair walks out of her office.

"You're still acting like an ass" she says under her breath after he is gone. Stella makes her way to the conference room where the rest of the team is waiting for her. In her own mind, she still refuses to call them _her_ team. It seems to her that doing that would confirm that what has happened has happened.

Stella ignores the questioning looks the rest of them give her. She starts issuing orders in a sharp, pointed way.

"Listen up, Danny you are with me on the body in Times Square. Hawkes, you and Lindsay take the case in Queens. No one is to talk to the press for any reason. Remember we still have a job to do. And despite what Sinclair thinks, we are professionals, and I expect all of you to act professionally. Now let's get going."

They all hurry to comply. No one would dare cross her right now. As everyone scrambles off to their respective assignments, Stella absorbs the sights and sounds of the Lab. People are talking in quiet, subdued tones. Sid is down in autopsy, Adam is at a computer, and Tom is on the phone. The computers are humming. Someone's microwavable lasagna was cooked too long, giving off a burnt smell. This place used to feel like home. It used to be a place of comfort and security for her, even more so than her apartment.

No more.

As she passes by a certain office, she refuses to look in. It is _his _office. _He_ _should be there_. He should be at that desk after another sleepless night or at her side heading off to this latest crime scene. He should be the one haggling with Sinclair over the press, or performing another lab test. He should be running some DNA through CODIS, or conducting a ballistics test. Any of these things should be happening, but they aren't.

For Stella Bonasera the world has turned upside down.

_Thanks to the Beatles for the title of this chapter. More to come._


	2. Shadows and Conspiracies

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Thanks to everyone who read Chapter 1. I hope this is keeping your interest. Please read and review if you'd be so kind._

**Chapter 2: Shadows and Conspiracies.**

The grimy little bar is quite when I enter. I've managed to get far away from high-end, very public Madison Avenue and maneuvered my way to Brooklyn. This was the first hole I could find _Pat's Place_ is the name. No TV, no newspapers, nothing to point out to the curious who I might be. I head up to one of the barstools and have a seat.

"Need a drink pal?" The bartender asks, looking up from cleaning some of the mugs.

"Yeah. Sam Adams Winter Logger if you have it."

"Sure."

He places the frosty mug in front of me. The beer tastes good; a little darker than I'm used to, but still good.

I just sit at the bar, listening to the music and enjoying my beer. Time passes and no one else comes in.

"You gotta name mac?" The bartender asks me.

"Danny." I say the first one that pops into my head. Never mind that he actually said my name. "You must be Pat?"

"Yep. The second Pat to own this fine establishment; my grandpa opened this place up in the 30's and it's I took it over from my father last year."

Judging by the way it is decorated and the condition of things, it looks like this place hasn't been renovated since the 1930's.

"Say Danny, you know about what is going on? Half the NYPD is going nuts. I had two cops come in earlier asking for someone. What gives?"

"Umm… I think they are looking for a firefighter or a cop or something." I mumble quickly. This is not one conversational path I want to go down.

"You know what the guys name is?"

"Tyler or Taylor or something like that."

Pat comes up to the bar and leans in. His face is right in front of mine and he starts whispering.

"I know it's you Detective Taylor. I've known since the moment you walked in. You don't remember this but you helped out my brother. Back when my dad owned this place, my brother worked here. Someone got knifed and you and your team found the evidence that exonerated him. I'm not going to let the person who saved my brother go to jail. I'll give you five minutes before I call the police."

I sit there stunned. I don't even remember being here. I just walked into the nearest place I could find that looked safe.

"Four minutes Detective."

I quickly get up from the bar and head to the front door. The street is quite for now. I turn back to the bartender.

"Thanks."

"Three minutes."

I head out the door.

***

The mood of the Lab is somber when Danny gets back from Times Square. Dodging a dozen cameramen, reporters, and photographers all shouting questions certainly doesn't brighten his mood.

_This isn't happening_ he tells himself for the hundredth time. It won't enter Danny's mind that his boss is a fugitive from justice, wanted for such terrible crimes. He simply cannot and will not accept that fact.

On the ride to and from their crime scene, Danny found himself looking at Stella and pitying her. This has hit her harder than it hit anyone else. Worry and anger and disbelief are etched into her face and her mood is as dark as that face. He can't tell if she has accepted what has transpired, but he is certain she isn't the least bit pleased at being the head of the Crime Lab.

While trying to identify a tissue sample from their scene in Times Square, Danny slowly formulates a plan. It's very risky, pretty stupid, and probably won't work. But there is a chance. He has to take it. For Mac. For Stella. For all of them.

***

Hawkes makes his way up to the apartment building. It is well past working hours, and for once, he is glad to be away from the Crime Lab, and work.

He makes his way up the stairs. Standing there, he punches in a number on his cell phone. The intended caller answers not with a greeting, but rather, a simple statement:

"I thought the Broncos would win tonight."

Hawkes gives his response.

"No way, there were too many holes in their defense."

He waits for a couple of minutes. The door opens and Hawkes comes in after a final glance back. He checks to make sure no one is watching. They aren't.

There is silence as Hawkes and his companion make their way through the hall and to the elevator. Silence on the ride up, and silence as they enter the apartment. It is dark inside. The TV is off, the blinds are closed, and only one light is on. Hawkes makes his way to the table where Lindsay, Tom and Adam are sitting. Hawkes takes the other chair as Danny comes over to the table.

"Is this everyone Danny?"

"Yeah, this is everyone."

"Where's Lucy?" Hawkes asks Lindsay.

"She's asleep."

Danny speaks up. "You all know why we are here?"

Everyone but Lindsay shakes their head.

He presses on. "We have to help Mac. He's innocent and is being railroaded for this. His career and reputation have been destroyed, and every case he has been working on is in jeopardy. The DA and Sinclair both need his head to save their own careers. And he needs our help. We are Mac's team. He's always been there for us when we've needed him, now it's time to return the favor."

No one says anything, so Danny continues. "Before we start getting an idea of what to do, it's only fair we know the risks. Tom, if we get caught, what are we looking at? Everything."

Tom takes off his glasses and closes his eyes for a bit in concentration. "Let's see, obstruction of justice, aiding and abetting, interfering in an ongoing investigation, and maybe accessory after the fact, at least. I'd lose my law license, and Sheldon, you'd lose your medical license. The rest of yall would face every ethics charge Internal Affairs can think of. If the judge is lenient, we'd be lucky to only get 15 years each. Not even at a nice federal pen. One of our local spots; Attica, Sing Sing, take your pick."

No one looks shocked or surprised. Danny takes over again.

"So now you know. Anyone who wants to back out, this is the time to do it."

There is silence for a minute as each of them considers the choice. If they are found out, their lives and careers will be ruined too. Not to mention the jail time. But if they back out now, each one of them is still guaranteed a future.

"I'm in." Adam speaks up first; his voice is stronger than usual.

"Me too" is Hawkes's answer.

"This is for Mac." Lindsay is next.

"Count me in." Tom says.

"And I'll make it five." Danny finishes.

They have a pact.

Lindsay asks the question that is on all their minds. "So, what do we do?"

"We need to find him." Hawkes states in no uncertain terms. Everyone agrees.

Danny lays out his plan. "Since Mac is both smart and innocent, finding him won't be easy. He won't use a phone since it can be traced. If he's in the city, he is probably staying in a run-down hotel and may change places once or twice, but that's about it. We need to check the hotels; the kinds of places that don't ask too many questions and may be monetarily persuaded. Adam, can you make a list of all the likely hotels where he could be staying?"

"You got it Danny."

"Doc, you and I will start looking at the places Adam finds. Lindsay, check out the mass transit systems. Adam can help you with that. Probably focus on the subway; it's the easiest way to get around without too many people paying attention. Tom, look through any recent paperwork. Maybe Mac gave us some kind of clue. Also, keep an ear on the DA's office; see if they know something we don't."

"No problem."

"Alright, so we have a plan. It goes without saying, but don't mention a word of this to anyone; Flack, Stella, anyone."

They nod in understanding. Adam, Tom and Hawkes get up and prepare to leave.

Adam turns back to Danny. "Do we have a name for this whole thing?"

"Yeah, Operation Shadow."

_What happened? What did Mac do, or didn't do? As always, I'm curious as to what you all think. Don't worry, more to come._


	3. Sleep of the Just?

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Thanks to my readers. You all are very kind. A shorter chapter this time. Enjoy._

**Chapter 3: Sleep of the Just?**

"Do you need any coffee Don?"

"I've got plenty."

"How about sleep?"

"I'm fine."

The truth is, Flack isn't fine. Nothing is fine about what is going on. Ever since he lost Mac earlier in the day, Flack redoubled his efforts. It was no use. Mac has disappeared. Probably half way to Canada by now, at least that's what Flack would do. He is upset that he didn't catch Mac earlier, but also not upset. He is angrier at himself that he doesn't know how to feel about this. He is a cop. He swore to uphold the law. Same as Mac. Except Mac has broken that oath, or at least the evidence says so. It should be so simple; Mac's a criminal and Flack hunts down and arrests criminals.

Except it isn't that easy. With a friend, things aren't that simple.

Feeling what seems like the weight of the world upon his shoulders, Flack gets back to the thoroughly unpleasant task of hunting down his friend.

***

I enter the lobby of my intended hotel. There is no one around. It is an old, dilapidated structure, probably beyond renovation and should be torn down. As I had hoped, there are no cameras. I get up to the reception desk. The clerk is a middle-aged, very bored woman. She doesn't even looks up when I approach.

"What do you want?"

"I need a room."

"No kidding, it's almost like you should be at a hotel."

My temper is running short. "Listen lady, do you have a room or not? I'm willing to pay cash."

Now I have her attention, although she still isn't looking at me. "Cash huh? Alright pal, its $40.00 a night. Any other room service and all the crap you pay for extra, got it?"

"Got it" I hand her the money out of my wallet. Since it is two $20s, she doesn't bother to look at them, or me, too closely. She sticks the money in a drawer and fishes around for a key.

"Room 334. Enjoy your stay." She doesn't sound the least bit concerned about my stay.

I make my way up the stairs and to my room. It's a dump. If the place has been cleaned since June I would be surprised. The carpet is stained with God only knows what. The TV looks like it belongs in the garbage can. There is a crack in the corner of the mirror. The light bulb in the night lamp flickers when it is turned on. This whole place just feels of grime. There is one small consolation; the plumbing and the heater work.

Turning on the TV (another stroke of good luck; it works too), I'm not surprised to see that the search for me is dominating all the news channels. It is a bit surreal seeing everyone on TV frantically seeking to find out where I am. It is less surreal and far more depressing to hear the comments being thrown around about me. "A disgrace to the NYPD" "a monster", "the worst type of scum", "the embarrassment of New York" all are leveled at me by people I've never met or done anything to. A part of me just wants to open the window and yell at the top of my lungs, "Here I am! Do I look like a monster?!"

Before going to bed, I take off my coat, shoes, and dress shirt, leaving only my pants and undershirt on. These are the only clothes I have. Although it is only 9:30 pm, I feel utterly exhausted. After this terrible day, even I need some sleep.

Mercifully, it comes quickly.

***

_RING!_

_Who would be calling me at 4:30 in the morning? Damn it, I fell asleep in the chair. I didn't even get a chance to change out of my suit._

"_RING!"_

_I'm not shift now. Why call me?_

"_RING!"_

_Something must be wrong. _

"_Taylor."_

"_You need to leave now."  
"Who is this? What are you talking about?"_

"_They are coming to arrest you."_

"_Who the hell is this?"_

"_Run Detective, unless you want to go to jail."_

"_I've done nothing wrong! My alibi will check out!"_

"_The evidence is there. RUN NOW!"_

I jolt awake. My dream was a flashback to last night. The phone call, from God only knows, telling me to get out. They were using a voice scrambler, so it could have been anyone. Who was that? How did they know what was going on? It wasn't a number I know, and I have no way of tracing it.

_There will be plenty of time to worry about this in the morning. _I tell myself._ Get some sleep!_

I roll over and try again.

***

_Sirens in the distance._

_They are going to somewhere else, relax._

_They get louder and louder. _

_No. Impossible. How could they suspect me?_

_I jump from the chair. _

_The window and fire escape. It will be the easiest way of getting out of here. Mere words and explanations won't do it. I can't talk my way out of this. I grab my overcoat and wallet and head out the window._

My eyes fly open. Not again. The images whirl around my head and rattle in my brain. Jumping from the window. Racing down the fire escape. Running for my life. Acting like nothing more than a common criminal.

_Keep trying, eventually, even you have to sleep._

***

"_Detective Taylor, where were you on the night of the 14__th__?"_

"_I was downtown, at the jazz club I play bass at."_

"_Can anyone verify that?"_

"_Yes, there were at least 20 people there. Ask some of the staff. They'll remember me."_

"_How late was that?"_

"_I finished up around 1:00. After that, I went straight to my apartment and to bed."_

"_Can anyone verify that?"_

"_No. I was alone."_

"_Interesting."_

"_Don't give me that patronizing bs. I've done a lot of these. I'm a cop too, remember?"_

"_Of course Detective."_

Damn it, this has to stop. Reliving the events of the last few days is not going to change what has happened. I've made my choices; I'm going to have to live with them.

_Please Lord_ I pray to whoever is listening _whatever I've done, forgive me and let me get some sleep_.

I drift into blessed unconsciousness. Hopefully my prayer has been answered.

***

"_Mac, how did it go?"_

"_I think it went fine."_

"_How could they suspect you of all people? It's ridiculous."_

"_I don't know."_

"_Mac I'm worried." She pulls closer to me._

_I embrace her in a hug. "It's okay Stella. It's going to be okay."_

This time, I don't wake up.

_More still to come. Stay tuned._


	4. Rumors and Sightings

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well, the last chapter didn't get quite the response I hoped for. If there is anything I can do to improve my tale, don't hesitate to say so. Anyways here is Chapter 4. Enjoy._

**Chapter 4: Rumors and Sightings**

For the third day in a row, Danny finds himself entering the lobby of yet another run-down hotel. These places are distinctly unwelcoming, particularly to people with his profession. However he isn't intimidated. This is his city after all.

Going up to the front-desk, Danny smells the faint scent of smoke coming from the clerk.

"Can I help you?"  
"Yeah, I need a favor."

"A favor? What kind of favor?"

"Have you seen this guy?" He pulls out a photo of Mac. It's different from the one that the police are showing. Just enough.

The clerk looks at the photo, then at Danny.

"You a cop?"

"No. I just want to know if you've seen this guy."

"Sounds like a cop to me."

"Would a cop give you 20 bucks?"

"20 dollars?"

"Yeah $20 if you've seen him and another $20 to keep an eye out for him."

"Deal." He takes the 20 dollar bill and stuffs it in his pocket.

"So, have you seen him?"

"Nope."

"If you do, just give me a call." Danny rattles off the number of the disposable cell phone they are using for what he deemed "Operation Shadow".

The rest of Danny's break between shifts is like this. Going through various hotels and local places; dispensing money here, persuading there. Above all, he asks everyone he can if they have seen Mac.

The answer is always no.

Until, he comes to a shoddy looking place called _The Full Deck Hotel_. A tart looking woman at the front desk stares at the picture for a second longer than most.

"Oh yeah, I saw that guy. He looked a little worse than in your picture. Looked like he hadn't shaved in a while. He came in a couple of days ago."

"Is he still here?" Danny asks quickly, excitedly.

"Nope. He left this morning."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"What am I, his travel agent? Of course he didn't say and I didn't ask."

Danny's hopes are quickly dashed. He goes to leave, but she stops him first.

"Hey! What about my 50 bucks?"

Danny sighs heavily and pulls the money out of his pocket.

***

When not sitting in on Internal Affairs interrogations of members of the Lab or pouring through documents, Thomas Hayes finds himself at an old haunt; the District Attorney's office. He used to work here after all, and he departed on good terms. He even plays golf with some of the ADAs on the weekends. Now though, his goal is more covert; any information he can pry out of the office on the search for Mac. Everyone involved in the chase is so paranoid about the look of impropriety that they are completely blacking out any information from getting to the Crime Lab. Needless to say, this has been unbearably frustrating to everyone at the Lab.

So, Tom does one of the things he does best; politic. He shakes hands and chats with everyone he can find, asking them about their kids and their lives; listening to their stories, interesting or not, and plays the political game. It was part of the reason he was hired after all; his boss, whether Mac or Stella, hates the politics, the gossip, and the backroom deals that are a part of city government. Tom can't help himself; he loves it.

However, this time it is proving to be fruitless. Even DA Rhodes, his old boss, isn't talking. They must have received orders from on high to keep quite. Tom is about to give up when he hears two of the clerks talking and one of them mentions Mac. Tom quietly goes behind a nearby pillar and pretends to be on his cell phone. In reality, he is listening intently.

"So, I heard that the NYPD thinks he's still in the City."

"No kiddin? Stupid if you ask me. In that sort of situation, I'd be in Toronto or Mexico City by now.

"Me too. But apparently, someone claims to have seen him recently. As in, yesterday."

_Where!_ Tom wants to scream out.

"Where did they say he was?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in Brooklyn."

"Guess I'll take another route home. The NYPD being there will make traffic a nightmare."

"Yeah, that's why I go…"

Tom doesn't stay around to listen to the rest of their conversation. He got the information he needed.

***

Adam finds himself at a subway station on the Upper East Side. It's his lunch break and he decided to take the time and help Lindsay cover some of the train stations. He thought that at this time of day, it wouldn't be too crowded. At least, not so bad that he couldn't spot who he was looking for. He was wrong.

The station was packed with business people catching other trains, families on vacation, and not a few tourists who caught the wrong train. He also notes the police presence. Adam counted at least five cops in the station, showing them Mac's photo, checking if anyone has seen him. He looks at the facial expressions of both the cops and the people being interviewed. None of them seem to recognize Mac. Adam can barely see anything in the crowds. He heads towards another terminal, one heading to Brooklyn, hoping it has less traffic. He was wrong again. Adam is growing increasingly frustrated by this. He still wants at least a little time for lunch.

Heading towards the next terminal, Adam spots a man in the distance who looks familiar. He has short hair and is wearing a suit. No tie. Could it be? Adam jostles his way through the crowd, trying to get closer to him. He is no more than twenty feet and about three people deep away. The closer he gets, the more Adam tries to hope. Unfortunately, another look at the man's profile depresses Adam a bit; this man has the rough outlines of a beard. As far as Adam knows, Mac has never had facial hair. _It still could be him_ Adam tries to reassure himself as he presses closer.

Then, his cell phone starts going off. Adam briefly glances down at it. Stella is calling. _Oh crap_ he thinks to himself. Nervously, he answers the phone.

"Adam speaking."

"Where the Hell are you?" She sounds furious.

"I'm on my lunch break."

"Your lunch break ended 10 minutes ago. Get back to the Lab and get to work!"

"Right... right away boss." He stumbles over his words. Hanging up the phone, he looks out to see if he can spot the man.

He can't. They disappeared.

***

Several hours later after work, the five of them regroup to discuss their findings.

"I think we can come to a conclusion. One, he's still in the city. Two he's in a hotel, and three, he is most likely in Brooklyn."

Everyone agrees.

"I have a suggestion." Lindsay speaks up. "Why don't we all focus on the hotels now? As Adam and I have found out, looking after the mass transit just simply isn't going to work."

Danny nods "Sounds good to me."

***

_A few days later…_

"Yeah, that's him! He checked in here today."

"Are you sure it's him?"

"What the Hell does that mean? Of course I'm sure!"

"Do you know what room he's in?"

"Room 212."

"Tell you what; I'll give you $50 for telling me, and another $50 for a spare key to that room."

"One hundred dollars! Just to let you visit this guy?"

"That's right."  
He mulls it for a bit. "Make it $150."

"Deal."

The clerk greedily snatches the money and gives the spare key.

"Here you go. You must really have it out for this guy."

"Nah, he's just a friend I'm playing a prank on."

This 'friend' hurriedly makes their way up the stairs to the 2nd floor. Room 212 is right around the corner. Key is placed in lock and the door quietly opens.

The room, not surprisingly, is in bad shape. While nothing appears broken, the whole place gives of a ratty appearance, much like every other hotel they've been to in the last few days. The bed has been made with military precision, obviously not by the staff. The water running in the faucet can be heard in the main room. It lasts only a minute before the door opens.

In from the bathroom, Mac emerges. He and his companion stare back at each other, stunned. While both are shocked, it is clear that Mac's visitor is more surprised. The former head of the Crime Lab looks haggard and aged beyond his years. Worry is etched into every crack and line in his face. The color looks like it has drained from him.

"Hi boss."

_Hope that keeps you guessing. I may or may not post another chapter before Christmas; I'll be out of town for that week so it will be a little hectic. If I don't, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays._

_J._


	5. Gifts

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Ask and ye shall receive; I managed to squeeze in one more chapter before leaving town. It's a seasonally themed chapter that I think you'll like it. My early Christmas present to my readers. Enjoy._

**Chapter 5: Gifts **

My heart feels that it has stopped beating. There is Lindsay, standing in front of me, right in the middle of my wretched little hotel room.

I stutter out his name "Lindsay."

"Mac, you look terrible."

"Being on the run from former friends and colleagues can take a lot out of a person. What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"My new friend at the front desk told me you were here."

"Damn it, I chose this place because they _don't_ talk to cops."

"Relax Mac; I'm not here on official business."

"On official business? What does that mean?" You aren't going to arrest me?" I ask skeptically.

She sighs. "No Mac, I'm here to help you. I, Danny, Hawkes, Adam, and Tom have been searching all over the city to try and find you. We believe you're innocent and want to help you."

"You can't help me, no one can. Everything I've worked for in my life has been taken from me. I've been charged with first-degree murder Lindsay. If I'm caught and convicted, I'd get the death penalty. People I thought were friends and colleagues, people I've worked with for years, have accepted the charges against me without batting an eye. I'm on the run from the entire city. I had to flee from Flack! Flack of all people! To top it all off, I've put all your careers in jeopardy and every case we've been working on."

"Mac, I've known you for years. You're innocent. And we are going to help you prove it."

"How?"

She bites her lip. "Umm, well, we haven't gotten that far yet. We've been focusing on finding you more than anything."

"That's comforting." I remark dryly.

"Let us help you. We're a team Mac and more importantly, we're your friends."

She's right. The only way I'm going to get out of this in any favorable way is to have help.

"Okay. Thanks Lindsay."

"No problem Mac."

***

"You found him!"

"Yeah. He's in Room 431 of the _New Amsterdam Hotel_. Leave it to a woman to find someone in three days what you boys couldn't find in a week."

"You're funny Montana. Real funny. How is he?"

"He looks like he's been through Hell. He's still wearing the same suit that he wore the last day we saw him."

"Shit. The same one?"

"Yep."

"When are you coming back to the Lab?"

"I'm just about to leave this hotel. Danny, we need to get him some food and new clothes. We can deal with some of the other issues later."

"Sounds good to me. I have to go with Stella to a scene in the Bronx. I'll send Hawkes over there. Mac's place isn't being guarded and Sheldon still has a key from when he was staying there. Should we tell Mac that Hawkes is coming over?"

"I'll head back to tell him."

***

A knock at the door. Lindsay had told me to be expecting Hawkes.

"Special delivery straight from Manhattan."

I open up; Hawkes is standing there with a bag in each hand.

"Good to see you Sheldon."

He comes in and I close the door. He starts rifling through one of the bags. "Good thing it's Christmas, otherwise I'd have looked pretty suspicious carrying this stuff around."

I feel some relief as I see him pull out a couple sets of my clothes. "I brought you what I could find in your closet. Hope it's enough"

"Thanks." I nod appreciatively. I head into the bathroom and quickly change. I already feel better. Just getting some new clothes is a welcome change.

Hawkes isn't smiling. "Unfortunately, I'm not just here to deliver clothes. I have some rather bad news."

"What news?"

"It's about Stella."

He certainly has my attention. I stand up to look him in the eyes. "What about her? Tell me Sheldon."

He sighs a bit. "Well, she was at a crime scene up in the Bronx today when some lunatic attacked her. She didn't suffer any injuries, but needless to say, it is rather terrible timing, combined with everything else she is going through."

I'm rocked back as if he had punched me in the stomach. In fact, a punch would have been easier to take.

"How could this have happened?" I ask in a very sharp tone.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I honestly don't know. I wasn't there."

"Where is she now?"

Hawkes raises his eyebrows.

"Mac you can't possibly…"

"Where is she?!" I'm not asking him anymore. Now I'm demanding.

He frowns. "At her apartment. Mac, this is a very dumb idea. I know what you want to do, but you can't."

"Like hell I can't."

"You do realize that as a high-profile fugitive from justice, it's going to be rather hard for you to see a well known friend who just happens to be the interim head of a division of the NYPD right?" He asks matter-of-factly.

"I don't care. I'm her partner. I should have been there to protect her."

"Let's just say that circumstances prevented that from happening."

"Screw the circumstances." I go and grab my coat. "I'm going to see here and unless you think you can stop me, stand aside."

He doesn't try. "Fine, go ahead; you make your own choices."

"Yes I do. And this is my choice." I fire back as I head out the room.

***

Stella sits in her living room in silence. She made a cup of coffee and is trying to at least pretend to enjoy it and trying to block out what happened.

She is angry at herself for feeling so bad after this incident. She has had worse happen, but this one got to her. Combined with everything else she is dealing with, it was just too much.

Part of her is angry. _Extremely_ angry. At herself for going off on her own. At Danny for not watching her back. At the lunatic went after her. Hell at this point with the world being so cheery with the arrival of Christmas, she's mad at that as well.

Another part of her is not so much angry as sad. Very, deeply sad. She feels like a victim, one of the worst feelings she can imagine. She was sad seeing her colleagues take pity on her like they did. She's sad at this current situation more than anything. She still isn't sure what happened, why he ran, or what really is going on, but the events of the day made her realize one overwhelming, undeniable, crystal clear thing:

She misses him. She misses being with him, having him there for her. She misses her partner, but far more importantly she misses her friend. This pain causes tears to well up in her eyes and come out. Stella considers herself a strong woman, but right now she doesn't want to be strong. She doesn't hold back the tears.

***

A cold breeze blows over me. I'm standing across the street from Stella's apartment, planning my next move.

This whole incident is my fault. If I hadn't gotten myself into this situation, I would have been there with her. I could have protected her, or at least it would have been me instead of her. There _has_ to be some way I can make it up to her. I have to let her know how sorry I am.

I stop in one of the local groceries stores and make a quick purchase. Afterwards, I walk across the street and enter her apartment building. Luckily, the doorman is away so no one sees me. I keep my face hidden from the camera, and made my way up the stairs, up to her floor. I maneuver through the hallway until I'm outside her door. The sound I hear inside breaks my heart; she's crying, sobbing softly, and letting go of some of her pain. Some of that pain I know I have caused. I place the items at the foot of her door.

I hesitate. Do I just leave it here? No, I need to know that she gets it. I knock on the door and quickly make my way around the corner and back to the stairs and out of the building.

***

Stella abruptly stops crying when she hears the knock. Who would be coming to her place at this hour? She listens for a voice to accompany the knock. There isn't one. Feeling a little nervous, she goes up to the door and looks through the peep hole. No one is there.

Was she imagining things? No, she distinctly heard a knock at that door. Cautiously, she opens it.

Waiting for her is a small, stuffed dog with a red rose. The dog is holding a card. Inside the card is a simple message in handwriting she knows so well:

_I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. Please forgive me. _

She races out into the hallway and looks around. No one is there. The elevator is already coming up from the ground floor. Knowing she won't be able to catch up, she picks up the gift and goes back into her room. She pulls back the curtain and peers out the window.

On the other side of the street there is a person hiding in the shadows. She can't make out any features on them. She doesn't have to. She knows who it is.

Standing there, with the dog, rose and card in her hands, she finds a small smile forming from her lips.

"Merry Christmas Mac."

***

I look back at the window in her apartment. She is looking out at me. Ignoring the cold and the wind, I stare back for a brief moment.

"Merry Christmas Stella". I turn and walk away into the cold December night.

_Hope you like it. Quick update; I've put a little info up on my profile page; it helps explain some of the methods to my madness. This is definitely my last chapter before Christmas. A very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and yours._


	6. Unanswered Questions

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who aren't me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence._

_Well, the holidays are over and I had a good chance to write some things while traveling. As always thanks for reading and reviewing._

**Chapter 6: Unanswered Questions**

All five of my co-conspirators; Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes, Tom and Adam have crammed themselves into my room. It feels good having almost everyone here, with a few noticeable exceptions. It's almost like we are back in the Lab, just discussing another case.

Danny takes the lead. "Okay Mac, now that we are all here, why don't you explain exactly what happened?"

I take a deep breath. "I guess it's best to start at the beginning. I was playing bass at the club one night and afterwards a woman came up and introduced herself to me. I had noticed her looking at me when I was playing. She said her name was Alice Brewer. She started chatting with me and we had a couple of drinks. Right before she left, she gave me her number and told me to call her. Out of courtesy, I called her that weekend and invited her for dinner. I suppose the only thing even remotely I did romantic was give her one of my cards with my phone number on it. It was nothing serious, just a meal, or so I thought. "

I pause for a bit to collect my thoughts and forge ahead. "That Wednesday, I was at the club as usual and Alice was there again. After I was done, we had some drinks again and she started talking about us. I could tell that she wanted to have a serious relationship but I said no, that wasn't what I was looking for. We kept talking about it and the discussion became heated. She even shouted at me a bit and stormed out in a huff. I finished up my drink and left. That was around 1:00 am. The next morning, I got a call saying that someone had been found dead with my card. It was Alice. She never made it home. Someone had strangled her with their bare hands. They wore gloves of course, and left no real evidence. The only prints they did find were mine. I had grabbed her hand earlier in the evening. There was also a fiber on her clothes from my coat, but she got it on her from brushing up against it at some point in the evening. It was Flack's day off so some new guy; Detective Jenner was at the scene. When he brought me in for questioning, I tried explaining all of this to him. He didn't believe one word of it. He assumed that we had gotten into a fight and I followed her and killed her."

They take in what I've said. Then, Lindsay speaks up. "How did you avoid getting arrested?"

"I received a phone call at 4:30 in the morning from someone warning me that the NYPD was on their way to arrest me?"

"Who warned you?" Tom asks.

"I have no idea. They used a voice scrambler and I had no means of tracing the call."

"Did you see anyone at the Club or at the restaurant watching you and Alice?" Hawkes asks.

"No, no one."

"Are you sure she was deliberately targeted? Maybe it was a mugging gone bad?" Adam suggests.

I shake my head. "A mugger would have left some kind of forensic evidence. Most people involved in stealing from people on the streets wouldn't take the time to be so thorough."

"So what're your instincts telling you Mac?"

"I don't follow my instincts, I follow the evidence."

"Well, what does this evidence tell you?"

"We still have a lot of unanswered questions. Obviously the most important is finding out who killed Alice Brewer. Second, we need motive. Did this person target Alice or were they doing it to get to me? We do know a couple of things though. We are dealing with someone smart. Someone careful. Someone who isn't going to make a lot of many mistakes."

Tom asks the question on everyone's mind. "So, what's our next move?"

"I need to change hotels. I've been here for three days. Another day here would be too long in one place. As for you guys, find out who killed Alice Brewer. Everything else will fall into place once we know who is behind all of this."

Danny smirks "are those our marching orders boss?"

I can't help but smile a bit and play along. "Yeah, those are your orders. Move out soldiers."

Danny gives me a mock salute "Yes sir."

***

"How is the search going Don?" Stella looks at him.

"You know I can't tell you Stella."

She smiles conspiratorially "As far as anyone knows, we are just discussing the latest crime scene."

He gives in. "We know he is still in the city, but that's about all. It's been six days since he disappeared. Mac is smart. I doubt we'll find him unless he wants to be found.

Stella surprises herself by her next words. "I hope you find him."

"Why?" Flack is just as surprised as Stella is at what she said.

"I… I want to know what is going on. I want answers."

Flack looks at her skeptically. "That isn't it, is it?"

She drops the act a bit. Now they aren't cops, just friends.

"Don, I want to see him. I want to know he's okay. I want the peace of mind of knowing how he is."

He nods sympathetically "I know Stel. I feel the same way."

"Do you really think he is guilty Don?"

"I don't know. If he hadn't run, then absolutely not; but he did run. Why would an innocent man run from the police? I don't get it."

"Neither do I."

_So, now we know a little more about what is going on. Don't worry; I'll start to fill in the gaps. Things will soon be moving at a faster pace. There will be some action in the next chapter. Stay tuned._


	7. Plans Derailed

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks for the warm response to Chapter 6. The reviews and comments have been great so keep them coming. As I promised at the end of Chapter 6, things will start to move faster now. Enjoy the last chapter for2009._

**Chapter 7: Plans Derailed**

I'm down in the subway waiting to catch my train to go to Astoria in Queens. Luckily, it's not crowded and the NYPD patrols have died down a bit. Plus, with a bank robbery going on elsewhere in the borough, I'm safe for now. I don't look too conspicuous; I haven't shaved in a week, so the beginnings of a beard are growing but I'm not hauling a bunch of stuff around. Adam said he would bring it all over to the_ Victorian Hotel_.

The rumble in the distance is a tell-tale sign that the train is pulling up to the stop. After the very few people on get off, I and my fellow passengers embark. In my car, there are just two families; the rest are all professionals catching a late train home from work. I can tell that almost everyone is a local. The train starts moving. Nothing remarkable or noticeable; it's going to be just another humdrum ride.

It isn't. While making a turn about halfway into the trip, something goes horribly wrong. There is a terrible grinding noise and the train starts to violently shake. Then, it starts to lurch. People are starting to shout in panicky, scared voices.

"Get down! Cover your head and hold on to something!" I yell over the din. I follow my own advice and brace myself for the impact.

The whole place rocks violently and the screeching of wheels on tracks whines through the car. The awful sound of metal colliding into concrete reverberates throughout the train. I close my eyes and pray to whoever is listening. I grab onto what I'm holding even tighter and I resist the forces trying to toss my body around like I'm in a washing machine.

Mercifully, the shaking and violent movement comes to a halt. Everything is now oddly quite. I open my eyes to fuzzy vision. Trying not to move, I examine the car.

The scene is terrible. Metal and debris are everywhere. The windows are smashed. Sparks are periodically coming through some of wires. It looks like everything inside the car has been destroyed. Some people are moaning, others coughing, and still others calling out to their companions.

I snap myself out of the daze and try to move, but unfortunately something is on top of my right leg. It looks like part of one of the seats. It takes some effort to push the thing off my leg. I don't think anything is broken but it hurts like hell. I can see several small cuts and scratches with blood trickling out of them, but those aren't serious.

I get to my feet. "Is everyone okay?" I call out. My fellow passengers respond with varied answers.

I start to make my way around the car to check on everyone. Pain flares up a bit in my right leg, so much that I have to limp. Most of the other passengers have only minor injuries, but not all of them.

I decide to take charge again "Okay, we need to find an easy way to get those who need immediate medical attention out. If you aren't seriously hurt, try looking around to find a good way out. Watch out for glass and live wires."

Some of them start searching around while others stay with some of the wounded. One of them calls out to me.

"I think this door is a good way out!"

I make my way over. They're right. The door looks like the best way out of here. The problem is it won't open. I use myself as a battering ram and slam into it. Once, twice, and it opens. With some effort, the pain in my leg is not going away; I get out of the car and look around.

It is just as bad outside as inside. The subway train clearly derailed and slammed into the sidewall between stops. Passengers are already getting out of some of the other cars, all looking confused and shaken. I think I can see the platform and luckily, there is an easy path to it.

I get back in the car. "Listen; there is one of the platforms to the left as leave through this door. Get the seriously wounded out first."

We start the delicate, arduous process of moving everyone out of the car. While helping some of them, I look in on the other cars. Thankfully, there are very few people in them. It looks like the car I was in is the most damaged.

After some time, we get everyone out. The pain in my leg has eased to a dull, throbbing ache so I lean up against one of the pillars to rest. One of the guys on the train comes up to me and shakes my hand.

"Thanks. You really took charge back there."

"No problem."

"You have a name friend?"

"Mac, Mac Taylor." I reply, not even thinking about it.

He certainly does though. His eyes grow to the size of dinner plates and he lets go of my hand as if it were on fire.

"You, you bastard!" He glares at me, taking a step back.

By now, I realize what I've done. I could try and explain, but it won't do any good. The wounded need tending, but others will have to help them. I need to get going before the NYPD shows up. Ignoring the ache in my leg, I start running, more accurately, limping away.

It is true what they say; no good deed goes unpunished.

***

Stella and Danny find themselves returning from processing the scene of the bank robbery in Queens. It was cut-and-dry; suspect entered the bank, held up the teller and shot a security guard. He made it less than a block before he was arrested.

Over the radio, Stella and Danny hear rather ominous broadcasts. Reports of a subway train derailing. People reportedly hearing what sounded like a terrible crash.

Then, the broadcast that almost makes Stella crash their vehicle:

"At least one witness claims that Detective Mac Taylor was on the subway train."

Stella turns on the siren and cuts through the traffic, speeding towards the subway station. They have other cases to work on, but she doesn't care. It will look bad for her and the Lab but she doesn't care. She has to know.

Danny doesn't say a word of protest. He needs to know too. There are others counting on this information too.

It seems like an eternity although they are only going three or four blocks. A flash of their badges is all they need to get down into the subway.

Down on the platform, it looks like the scene is under control. There are quite a few cops around, interviewing people, and the paramedics are treating all manner of injuries. What puts the two CSIs on edge though is that at least two people are covered with sheets.

Danny puts his arm on Stella's shoulder "Don't worry; I'm sure it isn't him. This whole thing is probably a case of mistaken identity." Danny tries to reassure her. He doesn't believe it himself.

Detective Jenner is interviewing one of the survivors when he spots the two of them. He comes over with a slight smirk on his face.

"Detectives Bonasera and Messer nice to see you." He sounds pleased that they've come, but not in a good way.

"We were in the area when we heard about the crash. Thought you guys could use some help." Stella explains.

Jenner's eyebrows rise up a bit. "Really? You see, I was just talking to Mr. Jones here and he says that our buddy Mac Taylor was on this train. And now you both have shown up. Isn't that interesting?"

He still has that smirk on his face. Danny can think of at least three different ways to painfully remove it, all of which he wants to try.

Jenner motions for the man to come over. "Mr. Jones, please tell Detectives Bonasera and Messer just what you told me."

The man looks nervously at the two cops. "Umm… well… I was on one of the subway cars and after we crashed some middle-aged guy stood up and started ordering us around, trying to get everyone to find a way out."

"Describe the man if you would." Jenner prods, thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Like I said, he was middle aged, but looked real tired, like he hadn't had a lot of sleep. What I noticed was the hair it was quite short. I'm a barber, Detectives, and I've seen it on dozens of vets who left the service but kept the haircut. I also noticed his facial hair. It looked fairly recent, like it had just started growing."

"Tell them about the conversation you had." Jenner impatiently directs, obviously waiting for Jones to reveal something.

"Well, he found a way out and those of us who were able did help the wounded out of the car. When we were done, I went up to him and shook his hand to say thanks and asked him his name. He told me point-blank that it was 'Mac Taylor'. After that, he took off, before any of the police could arrive. He had a nasty limp going; must have injured his leg in the crash."

"Thank you Mr. Jones. Now go over to the paramedics who will check you out." Jenner smiles with mirth.

The barber nods and heads away. Jenner turns back to the two of them.

"I have some of the boys out in the area, trying to see if anyone else has spotted him. Now, what was it you two were doing here again?"

"We were here to help out." Stella says with as much tact as she manage.

"Ah, well those of us who don't have fancy degrees have already concluded that it was simple mechanical failure that derailed the train. You all aren't really needed here."

"Since when did telling us where we can and can't go become a part of your job Benny?" Danny snaps. He has already worn out his patience with this weasel.

Jenner seethes at being called by his first name; he hates it and begins to open his mouth to respond.

Stella steps in before Jenner can talk. "What Danny is trying to say is thanks for the information Detective Jenner."

The smirk returns. "I'm sure Detective Bonasera, I'm sure. Now if you'll excuse me, those of us who were actually _called_ to this scene have work to do." He heads away from them.

"Stel, I could kill that guy." Danny says under his breath.

"Trust me Danny, I know." She concurs. "I need to talk with the guy in charge of this scene. If it wasn't an accident, then our crime scene needs to be taped off."

"I have to go make a call Stel and I'm not getting any service down here. Be back in a second."

***

"So it really was an electrical failure?" Stella asks the highest ranking officer on duty.

"That's what the engineers said. Sorry Stella, looks like you all came down here for nothing."

"Don't worry about it John. Thanks anyway."

"No problem."

She walks up out of the subway feeling both better and worse. Mac was here. The way the barber described him, both physically and how he acted, there can be no doubt. And he survived that terrible crash. She's thankful for that. But, he's hurt. How badly, she doesn't know and that's eating her up. _He could be bleeding out in the middle of street somewhere_. She tells herself bitterly.

This is it. She's had it. When she gets back to the Lab, she is going to find Sinclair and demand to be let in on the search for Mac. If Sinclair says no, she'll look for Mac anyways. She _has_ to find him. She can't take it any longer.

With this new resolve, Stella's mind draws to the card in her coat pocket. It was a cheap card, but the message inside is priceless to her. It's a simple note of apology that was found with a stuffed dog and a rose. She has been carrying it around with her ever since it showed up in front of her apartment. A Christmas gift, but also a reminder of a person she can't forget. And she _will find_.

***

Danny heads back to the surface to call Hawkes to tell him what happened. "From what that Jones guy said, he could be seriously hurt."

"Do you think he made it to the hotel Danny?"

"Probably. He left once someone found out who he was. You need to head over there Doc. Just to make sure." He hangs up.

"Just to be sure of what Detective Messer?" Danny spins around and sees Jenner standing right behind him.

"None of your damn business, Benny."

This time, the crack at his first name doesn't faze him. "Oh yes it is my business Messer. If you have any information on Taylor's whereabouts that you aren't telling the rest of the NYPD about, that's aiding and abetting a fleeing criminal."

"I don't have a clue where Mac is, Jenner. That's your job."

Jenner nods. "Absolutely it's my job. However, I don't like your tone Messer. I'll just place a call to Internal Affairs and have them ask you a few questions. If I were you, I'd have your lawyer present."

_Hope that kept you guessing a bit. The next Chapter will have some pretty dramatic parts as well. It will be an exciting way to kick off 2010. Stay tuned._

_  
P.S.: I hope you like my new disclaimer. I decided to have a little fun with it._


	8. Preemptive Strike

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Happy New Year! I for one am glad 2009 is over and hope 2010 brings better times. As a gift for the New Year, here is Chapter 8. As promised there are some dramatic twists and turns. Enjoy. Welcome to 2010!_

**Chapter 8: Preemptive Strike**

Danny sits in the interrogation room waiting for Tom and the person from Internal Affairs to show up. Jenner is outside the glass, and Danny would give up his salary for a month to have the chance to give Jenner what he deserves. _This is nothing_ he tells himself. _Jenner is just bluffing. Nothing to worry about_.

***

"Ouch! Damn it Sheldon that hurts!"

"Relax Mac, I'm almost done."

"Thank God. I've had meetings with Sinclair that have been less painful."

Hawkes ignores my complaining and focuses on what he's doing. He has come up to my room at the _Victorian_ with my stuff and what he needs to look at my leg. He is putting pressure on all the tender parts of my leg, causing me to swear at him like I'm back in the Marines.

"There that should do it." He stands up. "Nothing appears to have been broken but I'd keep off that leg for a while. Take these pills when it gets to be too much."

"Yeah, thanks Sheldon." I say through gritted teeth. "Any news?"

"Sorry, none that I'm aware of." He heads to leave.

"Stay off the leg." He tells me one more time. "And no more train travel for a while."

"Get out of here." I wave him out. He laughs.

***

Detective Benjamin Jenner stands outside the interrogation room with a nasty smile on his face. He never trusted the Crime Lab or its employees. They just weren't like the rest of the NYPD. Bunch of eggheads with badges. Ever since their boss went on the run, Jenner has been convinced that they are hiding something. Now, he's sure he caught one of them in the act.

"Soon, very soon Messer. You've done something, I know it. Soon, everyone else will as well."

"Don't count on that Jenner." He spins around to see two people coming towards him. It's Tom and Lindsay, each with a hardened look in their eyes.

"Councilor, nice to see you." He says, not even masking his insincerity.

"Cut the crap Jenner."

"Well, aren't we rude?" He shifts his attention to Lindsay. "And what are you doing here Ms. Monroe?"

"It's _Mrs. Messer_ now." Lindsay sharply corrects. "I'm here because you have my husband."

"Isn't that sweet. Unfortunately, you aren't allowed in there."

"Until the person from Internal Affairs shows up, you can't do a damn thing about it _Benny_." Tom retorts.

"Touchy aren't _yall_." Jenner does a poor imitation of Tom's accent.

Tom ignores it. "As I said, save it Jenner and let me see my client and Lindsay see her spouse."

"Fine. Right this way." He lets them in and closes the door.

Lindsay goes over and embraces Danny. "How are you doing Danny?" She asks him.

"Fine, I've been stuck in here a while."

"It's either here or out there talking with Jenner." Lindsay says.

Danny nods. "Hhmm… good point. So, any idea who they are sending over from Internal Affairs Tom?"

"Yep, and it ain't good. You must have really pissed Jenner off, he called in Baker."

"Baker? There are about a dozen Baker's in Internal Affairs. Which one?" Danny asks.

"_The _Baker. Hamilton Baker to be exact. The head of the whole department."

"Are you serious?" Lindsay asks incredulously.

"Dead serious. This ain't good Danny. He might not look like much, but Hamilton Baker could get you to confess to killing your own mother. That's why he's in charge."

"And that's why he's here." It's Jenner with another man. He is small, old and skinny as a rail. It looks like one stiff breeze would knock him over. Hamilton Baker, head of Internal Affairs for the NYPD.

"Detective Messer, Mr. Hayes." Baker nods to them politely. "I have to say that the timing of this is very interesting. As we speak, my good friend Brigham Sinclair is talking with your boss, Detective Bonasera. You could cut the tension with a knife. Anyways." He turns to Lindsay "I'm sorry ma'am, but only Detective Messer and Mr. Hayes are allowed in here while we talk. You will have to wait outside." He says politely.

Lindsay and Jenner leave the room. Baker sits down in the chair opposite the other two.

"Shall we begin?"

***

Stella is left to fume in her office. The conversation with Sinclair had been tough. He was impatient to go home and she was impatient for an answer. They argued over it for about an hour. Ultimately it was he who got his wish; Sinclair told her he would decide tomorrow morning whether or not to let the Crime Lab in general and her specifically back in on the search.

Until then, she'll just have to wait.

***

After over an hour of talking, the three men inside the interrogation room get up to leave. It is well past regular hours, but Lindsay refuses to leave. Luckily for her, Jenner left once the interrogation started.

Tom opens the door for the other two.

Baker turns to Danny. "We'll continue this conversation in the morning Detective Messer. Good night gentlemen." He spots Lindsay and nods to her "and ladies." He leaves.

"How did it go?" She asks nervously.

They both look away. Neither one wants to answer.

"Danny, tell me." She grabs his hand.

He offers her a sad look. "I didn't say anything explicit, but he knows. I'm not sure how, but he knows that I know something. The man could read me like a book; I didn't have a chance. Another round and he'll have figured out everything."

"What does that mean for you?" This time he doesn't answer. Lindsay glares at Tom. "What does it mean Tom?"

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "It means that in all likelihood, Danny will be placed under arrest tomorrow for obstruction of justice."

"No." She shakes her head. Impossible.

"There must be some way… how do we fix this?"

"We can't. Sorry Linds." Danny offers apologetically.

"Why don't yall go home? Try to get some rest." Tom gently suggests.

"Good idea."

***

The next morning, while Danny and even Lucy are still asleep, Lindsay heads into the kitchen to make a phone call.

"Victorian Hotel, this is the front desk."

"Yes, I need to call room 415."

"Who should I say is calling?"

"Claire."

It rings and rings. He never picks up.

"Sorry ma'am, do you want to leave a message?"

"Please."

***

I sleep in late this morning, or at least late by my standards. My leg isn't giving me as many problems as before; the medication that Hawkes gave me is keeping it under control.

The first thing I notice when I wake up is a flashing light on the hotel phone. I pick it up and dial the front desk.

"Sir, a woman named Claire called you earlier. She wanted to tell you that Baker is going after D and Baker almost has everything. Whatever the Hell that means." I hang up the phone. It's Lindsay who called, I'm sure of it. Baker must be Hamilton Baker of Internal Affairs. I don't need to guess who D is.

The main point of the message is unmistakable. Losing Danny is unthinkable to Lindsay. I understand what she is feeling, and I'll be damned if my cowardice puts a member of team through that. I know what I have to do, what has to be done.

I go into the bathroom; this place is a little nicer than some of the others that I had been staying at. In the bathroom, I do something I haven't done in a week; I shave off the beard that has been growing. I also take a long shower, enjoying every minute of the hot water washing over my body. I take two more of the pills to keep my leg from flaring up.

Afterwards, I get dressed. Out of the limited number of clothes I have, I choose my dark blue shirt and black suit. While putting the coat on, I feel something metal inside the inner pocket. I pull out the object and just stare. It's my shield. Although it has only ten days, it seems like a lifetime since I last wore it. A lifetime since my world was turned upside down. As I trace over the shield with my hand, I'm reminded of everything it symbolizes, everything it means, and everything it, and I, stand for. That's why I'm doing this for Lindsay and Danny.

Resigned to my fate, with my hand shaking a bit, I reach for the hotel phone and dial the intended number.

***

Flack is at his desk, enjoying a morning cup of coffee. Today, Sinclair has finally let him start working with the Crime Lab again. He is about to head on down there when his phone rings. The number is unknown. Normally, that would make Flack suspicious, but he has given out his cell number to so many people over the last few days that right now it doesn't faze him. It might even be a credible lead.

"Detective Flack." He takes another sip.

"Good morning Don."

Flack nearly chokes on his coffee. It's Mac.

He sputters out the first thing that comes to mind "You're about the last person I'd expect to call."

"You know, I'm disappointed. I thought the NYPD would have someone on patrol near the _Victorian Hotel_. It's a step above your average dump, but still a really good place to hide and it's near a major road. It seems like a logical place for someone on the run from the police to go."

"What's going on?" Flack demands.

Mac ignores him. "Room 415 isn't bad once you get used to it. They actually vacuum. The scenery isn't that terrible either; nice view of the street. Good place to watch the world go by."

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's really not a bad hotel." He hangs up the phone.

For a minute, Flack just sits there stunned. What is going on? He has no idea, but he knows for damned sure he is going to find out. Flack assembles a team to bring his old friend in.

What is Mac up to?

***

Sitting at her desk, Stella feels another headache coming on. She has been waiting for the decision from Sinclair ever since she came to work today. If he doesn't call in the next half hour, then she'll just have to start looking without his permission. If Sinclair doesn't like it, tough.

The phone rings and Stella nearly jumps on it. For once, she finds herself disappointed that it's Flack on the other end of the line. She isn't really interested in talking with him right now, but she picks up the phone nonetheless.

"This better be good Don." She says exasperatedly. No pleasantries. She doesn't have time.

"Stel" his voice is calm, and strangely subdued. "We found him."

Stella feels like she has been struck by lightning.

"What! How? Where?"

"He called me and told me where he is."

"Why would he do that?!"

"I have no idea Stel, but I'm on my way to the hotel to get him."

Stella's tone is softer. "Thanks Don." She knows he doesn't have to tell her.

"No problem." Flack hangs up. He doesn't sound particularly enthusiastic about any of this.

Stella just sits back in the chair. She supposes she could ask Flack if she could accompany him to make the arrest, but she doesn't. She doesn't need to see that moment when it happens; Flack putting Mac in handcuffs reading him his rights, watching him be marched into a waiting car. No. Stella won't see that. She'll wait to meet him at the station after all the hoopla is over with.

***

I haven't done much since I called Flack. I figure it won't be very long until he and half the NYPD show up at my door.

I'm relaxing in the lounge chair, peering out the window, still holding my badge in my hand. I have a very sad but certain feeling that I won't be getting to wear it much anymore. The sound of sirens is starting in the distance.

Blue and red flashing lights appear on the street, but I'm not moving; I need to rest my leg. I keep by the window, closing my eyes and letting the morning sun warm my face.

After only a minute or two, the sound of sirens is accompanied by footsteps, heavy booted footsteps. It's a SWAT team. They're coming down the hallway.

A heavy fist pounds on the door. "NYPD! Open up!"

I open my eyes. This is the end. "It's unlocked."

At least a half dozen heavily armed SWAT members burst inside. I hear the sounds of their weapons, but no own makes a real move. Finally, the person I want to hear speaks.

"Get up and turn around slowly Mac."

I comply.

"Good to see you Detective." I say to the man I still consider a friend. A man now pointing a gun at me.

"Put your hands up and come peacefully."

I look down at my shield one last time. Slowly, I reach out and give it to Flack.

"Here you go Detective Flack; I don't think I'll need it anymore."

He quickly grabs it and proceeds to place me under arrest. I'm being read my Miranda rights as we walk out of the room and through the hallway. After that, it is silent as Flack leads me through the lobby, passed several astonished guests and others. There is still silence as I'm put in the back of the car and Flack drives us to the station.

The chase is over.

_Well, I hope that surprised you a bit. Don't worry; there will be a big meeting between our hero and heroine in the next chapter along with some more clues as to what is really going on. Stay tuned._


	9. Private Meetings

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks once again for the warm reception Chapter 8 got. I hope you are enjoying reading this as I am writing it. As promised, there is a long-awaited meeting here. Actually, there is another meeting as well that I hope you like. Please read and review. Enjoy._

**Chapter 9: Private Meetings**

Absolute chaos.

That is the scene at the precinct when Flack gets me out of the car and takes me in. Dozens of reporters, photographers and cameramen descend upon us like wolves. I'm blinded by the flash of the cameras and nearly deafened by the shouting. Everyone wants to ask me something or yell something at me. It takes Flack and some of the other officers a considerable amount of time and a not too delicate hand to push through the crowd and lead me into the station. _There, they have photos of their villain. The system works. _I think darkly.

We manage to get into the station and it is only a little less crowded. The noise inside dies down when I come in. I feel the eyes of practically everyone focusing on me. I stare straight ahead and try not to look anyone in the eye.

Flack leads me through processing. I've seen this done to hundreds of people; some innocent, many guilty. Some of them are bitter and recalcitrant, offering futile resistance in the face of what feels like oblivion. Others weep, bemoaning their lot and cursing their fate. The third main group are the listless, offering no resistance or sobs. They've accepted that there is no hope for them and that they will not escape what awaits them. I'm not in any of these groups; my team is the best at their job. If there is any possible way out of this, they will find it.

***

After he is done processing Mac into the system, Flack takes his old friend into an interrogation room and lets him have his privacy. Flack had been doing everything by the book, but now he is going to bend some rules. Not for Mac, but for Stella. Flack knows her and him well enough that what they both want, and need, is some time alone to talk.

***

While Flack makes preparations to arrange a meeting for Mac and Stella, another detective, Benjamin Jenner, is arriving to his own meeting.

Jenner pulls his car into the parking garage where we told the other person to be. He gets out of the car and looks around behind a pillar. Out comes the one he called to meet.

"This had better be good Jenner."

"Oh it is good, very good."

"Well, what is it? I don't have all day."

"They just brought in Mac Taylor." Jenner breaks into a wicked grin.

"How?" His companion asks coolly, dispassionately.

"He turned himself in. Must have been tipped off about IAB going after Messer. Just like I said; go after his team and Mac Taylor will crumble every time."

"Is Internal Affairs still going after Messer?"

"No they dropped the investigation when Taylor was arrested." Now his companion gets testy.

"I wanted _all of them_ to get caught; Taylor for the crime, and the rest for trying to help him. Now all I have is Taylor."

"Who cares? You got the one you wanted most. There is no way that he can get off. The evidence is overwhelmingly against him."

"No shit Jenner, _I planted_ _that evidence_ and cleared up ours. Of course Taylor is going to get the needle, but I want them all to suffer."

Jenner dismisses it. "Whatever. They are all humiliated. No one will trust those Lab geeks again and that is fine with me."

His companion has his own wicked grin. "I guess I can enjoy watching Taylor go down and deal with the others later. As for you." He pulls out a gun and points it at Jenner. "I have no further use for you."

He fires three shots into Jenner's chest. The young detective collapses on the pavement and starts to bleed out.

Jenner watches as his murderer comes up to him and bends over to tell him something.

"Nothing personal Benny, just tying up loose ends."

***

Stella makes her way through the now diminished crowds at the station. She couldn't see him when he came in. The press was on him like rabid animals desperate for pictures, questions, anything they could get their hands on. Stella always hates it when the press acts like this. No one deserves to be picked apart like that to satisfy someone's desire to sell papers or receive ratings.

Stella searches around and finally finds Flack. He is in the viewing area attached to one of the interrogation rooms.

In the room _he_ is standing. Mac. This is the first good look at him she has had since he went on the run ten long days ago. He looks tired and exhausted, even more than usual. He is pacing a bit and she can tell that every time he moves his right leg, there is some small pain. In his eyes, she sees a deep sadness but also a small spark of determination. Some part of him that hasn't given up, and she is sure never will.

Flack leads her to the front door of the interrogation room. The blinds are pulled down and Stella noticed in the viewing room that the volume had been turned off, so that the conversation in the room could not be picked up on. Flack also had locked the doors; no one can intrude on their conversation.

He opens the door to the interrogation room and closes it behind her.

***

My heart starts pounding as I find myself alone in the interrogation room with Stella. She's makes her way over and is standing less than a foot away from me. She is also staring at me, but not in a good way. There is a fierce anger in her eyes. She doesn't say anything. The silence drags on for at least a minute or two.

Then, without a word, she suddenly slaps me across the face. A stinging pain erupts across my cheek.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" She asks me, her voice barely below a shout.

"What… what do you mean?" I stutter out.

Now she _is _yelling. "What do I mean? Where do I start?! First off, why didn't you trust me enough to tell me about Alice? Why didn't you come to me as your partner and more importantly as your friend when all of this started? And why in the Hell did you run? What, did you not think we would treat you fairly? Did you not trust us? Did you not trust _me_?! And now, you turn yourself in for no reason! What for?!"

"I…, well I…umm…" I can't think of anything to tell her, anything to deflect her anger.

"Well, say something!"

I take a deep breath and try to formulate what I can say. "You're right Stella. I should have come to you when this whole thing started. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I couldn't trust you. I'm sorry for screwing this up so badly. I'm sorry for all the pain I've cause."

Her temper has not diminished. "Do you have any idea what this has been like for your team? We've literally been living through Hell the last ten days. Our integrity has been questioned, our entire department has been humiliated, we've been shunned by the rest of the NYPD, we've been hounded by the press, and to top it all off we've had to _worry_ about you the entire time. Worried that you would be gunned down during a chase gone wrong. Worried that you died in that train crash. Worried that you had been so terribly injured that you were bleeding to death in the streets. Worried that you had escaped and we'd never see you again."

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

"Do you have a clue as to how terrible this has been for _me_? I lost my partner and my best friend. I didn't get an explanation from my best friend as to what was going on. I was attacked by a lunatic at a crime scene and I didn't have my best friend there to let me cry on his shoulder and him to tell me it was okay. I had to worry about my best friend, about _you_ all the while trying to convince anyone and everyone that I was okay with them finding you and hauling you here in handcuffs. And now that you're finally here, I have to sit through a circus just to see you tried for murder. Do you have anything to say to that Mac Taylor?!" She jabs her finger at my chest.

"I'm sorry Stella, I'm so sorry." I say as quietly and sincerely as I can.

"Damn you. Stop standing there and saying you're sorry. Why aren't you fighting back? Or have you forgotten how to do that? Why don't you say something more than just sorry?!"

I just stand there, frozen in place. Anything else I say will be inadequate.

Her voice is starting to waver. "Damn you Mac. Damn you for making me feel sorry for you."

She starts to cry and I instinctively pull her into a hug.

She doesn't fight it, but she still curses my name. "Damn you Mac."

I hold her tighter. She whispers into my chest "I missed you."

"I missed you too Stella. I missed you too."

_Hope that was as good as what you were hoping. Chapter 10 is coming up. Stay tuned._


	10. Revelations Great and Small

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_ I hope you liked the twists and turns that Chapter 9 took. Only a couple of chapters left. As always, I welcome and read any reviews (good or bad). Enjoy._

**Chapter 10: Revelations Great and Small**

"Now this is one scene I'm not surprised we have to process." Hawkes remarks.

"Why not?" asks Adam.

"You've obviously never met him."

The two of them are at a parking lot in town standing over the still bleeding body of Detective Benjamin Jenner. It appeared to be a quick, clean kill. Maybe a hit. Or maybe Jenner got what he deserved.

"Three gunshot wounds, close ranging to the chest. If he had been found earlier, he might have had a chance." Hawkes thinks aloud while Adam processes the scene, looking for the bends down to get a closer look and takes a close up photograph of the gunshot wounds when Jenner's eyes shoot open and he grabs Hawkes's hand.

"Traitor!" he gasps.

"Who? Tell me Jenner! Who betrayed whom?" Hawkes asks quickly.

"I…gave…him…Tay…lor…he shot…me!"

"WHO?! WHO SHOT YOU?" Hawkes yells at the dying man.

Jenner smirks, blood around his mouth.

"Talk!"

He doesn't. Jenner's eyes close and his breathing stops once and for all.

"Jenner!" Hawkes tries frantically to get Jenner breathing again. It fails. He's dead.

"Damnit!" Hawkes explodes in frustration.

"We have to tell everyone." Adam grimly asserts.

***

"Docket number 2974, _The People of the State of New York vs. Mac Taylor_. The charge is murder in the first degree."

"How do you plead Detective Taylor?" Judge Reynolds asks me.

"Not guilty Your Honor." I have to talk loudly so he can hear me over the chattering of people in the courtroom. It is packed with journalists, newsmen, and the curious. Judge Reynolds glares at the people in the back and orders them to quiet down. They do, somewhat.

"So Councilors let the game begin." Reynolds looks at DA Rhodes and Tom.

Rhodes goes first. "The People request that the defendant be held without bail. He is charged with first degree murder Your Honor, there can be no other option. He strangled the victim with his bare hands, a cruel and barbaric way to end a life."

"Your Honor, my client has been a pillar of the NYPD for many, many years. He has served as head of one of its departments in a stellar fashion. Before that he served honorably and ably in the defense of this country as a member of the Marine Corps. There couldn't be anyone less likely to commit such a heinous act against the City, against the country and against God."

"Your Honor, Mr. Hayes is hoping you forget that his client conveniently disappeared for ten days just prior to his arrest for the murder. If he fled once, he will flee again. Jail is the only way to make sure the defendant stays where he is."

I notice Rhodes never calls me by name or title. He's smart. He knows that the title 'Detective' carries some weight with the judge. 'Defendant' sounds less innocent and benign. It _sounds_ guilty.

"What do say to that Mr. Hayes?" Judge Reynolds looks at Tom curiously.

"The circumstances of that time frame are still being investigated Your Honor. However, it has been verified that my client was on the subway train that crashed in Queens several days ago and in fact has been credited with helping save lives. Furthermore, Detective Taylor did in fact call the NYPD and inform them of his whereabouts leading to said arrest. Do those sound like the actions of a man capable of murder?"

"What is the People's response Mr. Rhodes?" Judge Reynolds smiles, clearly enjoying the rhetorical fencing going on between the two lawyers.

"Your Honor, if the defendant is so honorable and innocent, then why didn't he come forward immediately and settle this whole thing quickly and quietly?"

"Well Mr. Hayes, why not?"

"Again, the circumstances are still under investigation Your Honor. However, I assert that given Detective Taylor's stellar record, the flimsiness of the evidence connecting the crime to him, and the principle of innocent until proven guilty, that we should go on the side of caution. The Defense is willing to compromise and settle for house arrest."

"Flimsiness of the evidence? Your Honor, the evidence at the scene pointedly to only one person; the man standing over there." He points at me.

"Enough." Judge Reynolds halts both of them before they can start up again.

Now it's Reynolds's time to make his ruling. "Given the nature of the crime, I am inclined to side with the People." Beside me Tom's shoulders start to slump.

"However, in this case, I cannot in good faith overlook Detective Taylor's record of service to the people of this country and this city. As such, I agree with Mr. Hayes. The defendant will be under house arrest and shall surrender his passport, badge and especially his gun. However." He looks at me sternly, like my father did before he gave me the car keys for the first time. "If you step one foot out of line Detective, I will have you behind bars before you can blink." The stern look goes away and a sort of mischievous one takes its place. "And no more running off. Not even to save people from derailed trains."

He bangs down his gavel. "Next."

Tom ushers me out, past the wolves in the press corps. "No comment" being his standard reply to every question, until one of them stops us both cold.

"Detective Taylor, Mr. Hayes, what do you have to say about the murder of Detective Benjamin Jenner?"

I find the reporter who asked the question.

"What did you say?'

"You didn't hear? Detective Jenner was shot to death in a parking garage earlier today."

Tom nods. "Thank you kindly, and for the record, no comment."

We continue making our way to the back of the courthouse where there are fewer reporters and people. Tom hails me a cab.

"Mac, go home and get some rest, I need to talk with the DA about this. One of his main witnesses is dead. We might not even have to go to trial at all."

***

"And he didn't say who?"

"No, he wouldn't say anything else. Trust me Don, Hawkes tried to get him to talk, but he either couldn't or wouldn't."

'Typical Jenner. Bastard to the end."

"But doesn't this exonerate Mac?"

"What do you mean Adam?"

"Jenner gave Hawkes a dying confession that he 'gave Taylor' to the guy who shot him. That has to mean that they set Mac up."

"I guess so."

"What's wrong Don?"

"Even if Jenner was telling the truth, that still doesn't explain why Mac ran or what he has been up to for the last 10 days."

"I'm sure Mac will tell us eventually." Adam says quickly. None of the conspirators involved; Adam, Danny, Lindsay, Tom, Hawkes, or Mac himself had said a word about what they had been doing. They never intend to.

***

_4:30 AM, the following morning…_

"RING!"

_Not again_ I think to myself. It has been so nice being back in my own apartment, which is actually clean and with a bed that isn't as hard as a rock, that I actually went to sleep early.

But now it is 4:30 and once again, I'm being called by some unknown person.

I pick up the phone hesitantly. The last time I did this, I ended up on the run from the police for over a week.

"Hello?" I say groggily.

"You aren't out of the woods yet Detective." It's the same person who called me the first time.

"Who is this?" I demand sharply.

"You think you are okay now, but you aren't. I've made sure of that."

"Who are you? What have you done?"

"Jenner told me he never really liked you. I understand why."

"You shot Jenner." I don't ask. I accuse.

I hear chuckling on the other side of the line. "Yes I did."

"Why?"

"How did you enjoy being on the run Detective? Was it fun? Being abandoned by people you trust and by your friends? The uncertainty of it all? Not knowing if the next day will even come? There is only one thing you know of course. You know your future has been destroyed by someone else. In that, you and I are a lot alike. Ironically enough, we destroyed each other's future."

"What did I do to you?"

"What indeed? You're a smart man Detective, you figure it out." He hangs up the phone.

For the second time, the man who has ruined my life has called to mock me. That's all this phone call was; mocking me. However, he's made a fatal mistake; he thinks he's won. He thinks he is invincible, and he overplayed his hand. His bitter rant about how similar we both ruined each other was too much information for him to reveal.

Then it hits me; clear as a bell. It practically leaps into my head. I try to think it over for a second but I don't need to. It's obvious. It's undeniable;

I know who this is.

_What can I say; I like a good surprise in a story. This tale is coming to an end, and there are still some surprises coming our heroes' way. Stay tuned._


	11. No Such Thing As A Fair Deal

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thank you for all for sticking with this. This chapter took a bit of chewing over, but I think you'll like it. There are a few twists that even I didn't know would happen. As always all reviews are welcome and wanted. Enjoy._

**Chapter 11: No Such Thing As A Fair Deal**

It takes all my self control to keep from calling Stella or Flack or another member of my team the moment I have my epiphany. It is beyond my self-control to go back to sleep. I keep going over it in my mind, looking for any possible flaws in my thinking or holes in my argument. I can find none. It _has_ to be who I think it is.

At the earliest appropriate hour, I dial Flack's number. I was quietly told that Stella is still mad at me. I don't blame her and I'm not going to bother her with a phone call this earlier in the morning. But, I still need Flack and my team at the Lab to check out the lead I've been developing all morning.

"Flack."

"It's me Don."

"You know Mac, these surprise phone calls are starting to get old."

"Don, I got a phone call at 4:30 this morning from someone who admitted to shooting Jenner and setting me up for the murder of Alice Brewer. What's more, I know who he is."

"You're kidding me. Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Well who is it?"

"His name is Rick Lewis. He used to work for the Crime Lab. Last year the Lab had to make a lot of budget cuts. We were able to scrape together enough money to keep Adam, but I still had to let several people go. Rick was one of them. When I had the meeting with him to let him know, he erupted. He yelled that I was playing favorites, that I found a way to keep Adam and I should have found a way to keep him. I said if I could, I would keep everyone. He wasn't convinced. He stormed out of my office. I thought that he would cool down over time, but I was wrong. He's been nurturing this resentment ever since."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Find Rick Lewis."

"Mac, this guy is smart. He worked at the Lab. He knows forensic science. What makes you think he is even still here?"

"I'm positive he's still here. With a grudge like this, he is going to want to stay close to see me get what he thinks I deserve. He's still in the City."

"Alright, I'll try and find this Rick Lewis. You just stay put Mac. I don't want to have to find you again." He says seriously.

"Don't worry Don, I'm not going anywhere."

"Good."

***

"You're kidding me? Rick is the one behind this?" Adam exclaims, shocked at the news

"That's what Flack says Mac told him." Danny says

"That's crazy. Rick and I were pals when we worked the same shift. He even let me borrow his i-Pod once when I left mine at home. Why's he doing this?"

"Because Mac had to fire him due to budget cuts."

"This is nuts. It wasn't Mac's fault."

"Well, Rick doesn't see it that way."

"Dang. Umm… Danny, where's Stella?"

"She called in earlier saying she was going to take the day off."

"Okay. So, what do you think we should do?"

"Let's help Flack hunt down Rick."

"Is there a chance Mac is wrong about this?"

"I don't think so."

***

I'm left to stew at home for the remainder of the morning. I feel the overwhelming need to be doing _something_. Rick Lewis is out there and he's already murdered two people, yet all I can do is sit around and sip soup.

Tom calls that morning to tell me that Judge Sanger will be the presiding judge at my trial. He didn't sound too happy. Apparently he and Judge Sanger had gotten into an argument over the reasoning behind some Supreme Court decision. I never understood lawyers.

Eventually, I overcome my trepidation and decide to call Stella. She might be angry with me, but at the very least, I need to tell her what I think I've found.

She doesn't pick up the first few rings. She must still be mad. I'm going to leave a message when I hear the sound of my call being answered.

I don't wait for her to talk, I start in.

"Stella, I'm glad you picked up, I think I may have found a break in the case."

Then with horror I hear a voice that is not Stella's. "Really! I knew you could do it Detective."

It's _him_.

"What have you done with Stella?" I ask with barely controlled rage.

"She's fine. Don't worry Detective I'm taking good care of her."

"Let her go Rick. It's me you want."

"So you figured it out. Bravo. Rest assured, I definitely want you Detective; to be locked in prison until they put a needle in your arm for the heinous murders you committed."

"I've done nothing wrong you son of a…" I stop my tirade. _Murders_. Plural. "What else are you framing me…you bastard!"

He explodes with laughter; a cruel, merciless sound.

"You know Detective; your lawyer was too good. Just think of it this way; if you had been locked up, you wouldn't be in the position to be framed for yet another murder. To be free so you are forever imprisoned. I love irony."

"If you so much as…"

"Save your threats Detective. They won't do either of you much good."

"Maybe we could arrange some kind of deal?" I say hastily, trying to stall for time.

"You want to make a deal with me?"

"Yes."

A pause "I'm listening…"

***

"Detective Taylor, it's time to go." The officer of the court that Judge Sanger had sent to get Mac knocks on his door, but received no answer.

"Detective, open the door or I'm coming in." Nothing.

"Alright, you asked for this." He used the key that he had been given and opens the door.

"Not again." He groans and calls for backup.

Mac has disappeared.

_Hope you like it. More to come._


	12. Breath of Justice

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_Thanks everyone for the warm response. This is the second to last chapter. I rewrote this one several times so I hope you like it. Please read and review if you so choose. Enjoy._

**Chapter 12: Breath of Justice**

I make my way to the designated meeting place; Stella's apartment. It's really a simple deal. In exchange for releasing her alive and unharmed, Rick gets me. It's a risk I'm willing to take. However, I have no intention of going quietly. My plan is really twofold; ensure that Stella is safe, and then kill Rick Lewis.

I surprised myself by the second part of the plan. Before all this happened, I would never even consider such a rash act, but that was then. He killed an innocent woman to frame me and then made me run and hide like a hunted animal for ten days. He corrupted a cop and killed him. Now, more than anything he has kidnapped my partner. The man has just done too much to be left alive.

I arrive at Stella's place. There isn't anyone else here. I'm first.

How long has it been since the last time I was here? It seems like both an eternity and just yesterday. In reality, it was right before Christmas when I had to make amends for my failings. Now I'm here to end this, one way or another.

Is this a fool's errand? I have no idea. I really have no bargaining power with Rick, except his overwhelming hatred of me. It is a huge risk for me even just to be here. If I don't find either of them, then I will be going to jail for violating the rules of my house arrest.

I hear the doorknob turn and in comes Rick Lewis with a gun pointing directly at Stella.

"Home sweet home Detective Bonasera. Oh I'm sorry, no need to be formal we were coworkers after all. Home sweet home _Stella_." Rick snidely comments.

"Let her go Rick. That's the deal."

"Deal? What deal?" Stella asks confused.

"Don't worry about it Stella. Mac and I just came to a little agreement."

She looks from him to me. "What are doing Mac? What is this?"

"This is a way to get you free." I say simply.

"You see Stella" Rick jumps in "I'm trading up, or down as the case may be. In return for letting you go 'alive and unhurt', Mac is coming with me."

Incredulous, she shakes her head. "No. Mac, please tell me you didn't agree to this."

"I had to Stella. It was the only way to get you out of this okay."

"Aww, that's so sweet." Rick mocks in the background. He points the gun at Stella "Anyways, on to business. Stella, head into the bathroom and close the door if you would. If you come out, I'll shoot him, then you."

She's forced to do what he says.  
"Very good. Now it's time for us to go. Come over here Mac and face the bathroom."

I do what I'm told.

"Excellent. This was even easier than I thought." Out of the corner of my eye, I see the light from the lamp start to move, as if he's moving the lamp. "Unfortunately, this is where your story ends. You escaped from house arrest to come and see your partner, but you two had an argument and Stella was forced to take drastic action. So tragic."

I act before he can do whatever it is he is thinking about doing. I make a grab for the gun and it goes off, the bullet lodging itself in the ceiling. Rick's other hand flails with the lamp as he struggles to keep hold of both of his weapons. Both of us fall to the floor. In the process, the gun slips from his hand. I land a punch to his face, but he retaliates and hits me with the lamp on the side of my head, dazing me. He drops the lamp and quickly scrambles away from me. He runs out the door, ignoring the gun. I try to shake away the daze and notice some blood trickling from my head. I ignore it and follow him. He's in the elevator which closes just as I reach the door. I race down the stairs, hoping to catch him. I get to the bottom floor just as I see him burst out through the front door. I take off after him.

The two of us run down the streets of New York City, ignoring the rest of the world and everyone else. Right now, they don't exist. Rick turns down an alley and I follow him to a dead end. He is trapped. There is nowhere else for him to go.

He turns around to face me and has a look of deep anger contorting all his features. "So this is it then? Fine! I'll kill you then I'll kill Stella and I'll finally get my revenge."

I'm too out of breath from the chase to respond verbally, so I tackle him and slam him into the hard pavement below. He knees me in the stomach and knocks the wind out of me. I punch him in the chest. He lands a punch to the side of my face and I retaliate my placing a hand around his neck. I start to squeeze and cut off his air supply. He punches me again, but it is a weaker blow. I strengthen my grip around his throat. He pounds on my arm fruitlessly. I vow that I will not release him until he breathes his last.

Seeing him gasp for breath within my hand feels good. It feels _right_. He deserves it.

"Mac no!" I hear a distinct voice calling out to me from the other end of the alley near the street.

"Stay out of this Stella." I tighten my grip.

"No Mac. You can't kill him. He's not worth it."

"For the Hell he's put everyone through, he deserves to die."

"The Mac Taylor I know wouldn't kill an unarmed man in the streets. You've won. Let him live."

"Why shouldn't I just make this quick for everyone?"

"Mac, this isn't you. Let him go."

I look down at the figure struggling to breathe. Killing him would be justice. It would be so easy and feel so damned good to feel his breath stop within my own hand.

"Mac, please."

I look up from Lewis and at Stella. Her eyes are pleading with me, begging me to stop. It helps renew some of the humanity I thought I had lost. Then I look down at him again. Seeing Rick gasping for air no longer seems like justice.

I release my grip on his throat. He starts coughing and hacking for air.

Stella comes over to us and helps me up, while aiming the gun that was dropped at Rick.

"Are you alright?" She asks me, taking out a cloth to wipe away the blood from my head wound.

"I'm fine. What about you? Did he hurt you at all? How did he kidnap you?"

"He snuck up and pulled a gun on me as I was heading to go to the Lab for the day. Other than my pride, I'm fine. Is it over Mac? Please tell me it's over."

"It's over." I look down at the still struggling Rick. "Let's take him down to the precinct."

_Only one more chapter to go. It will probably be posted by Wednesday. Stay tuned._


	13. Back from Elba

_Disclaimer: CSI: NY and all the characters from the show are owned by CBS, Paramount, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony Zuiker, and other people who are much more creative and wealthier than me. Any other characters are my own and resemblance to any other person is a pure coincidence. Well mostly. Probably. No wait, mostly._

_I guess 13 is my lucky number when it comes to chapters in my stories. This is the last chapter of Fugitive. As with everything I write, I really enjoyed working on this. Definitely a happy ending in store. Enjoy._

**Chapter 13: Back from Elba**

"And so Your Honor, since this new evidence has come to light and a new suspect is in custody, the State of New York is dropping all charges against the defendant Mac Taylor."

"Very well. Detective Taylor, the State of New York has dropped all charges and Judge Reynolds is not requesting any charges be brought up against you for violating the terms of your house arrest. There is no reason for me to keep you here anymore. You are free to go." Judge Sanger brings down his gavel.

To my surprise, the courtroom erupts into cheers. Even the crusty old judge allows himself a smile and DA Rhodes looks relieved. I'm mobbed on the way out of the courtroom by people. Of course there are the reporters who want me to answer their questions. I have to admire their tenacity; I haven't given any inclination to answers their questions before, and I certainly am not going to start now. The rest of the people are well-wishers, giving me thumbs up or saying congratulations. Dozens, seemingly hundreds of smiling faces. I didn't know practically any of them.

The scene is even better when I get back to the Crime Lab. Here, at my home away from home, I'm treated like a conquering hero. Everyone it seems from the Lab is here to greet me. A banner is hung in the hallway reading "Welcome Back Mac". Once again I'm mobbed by people giving me congratulations. It seems like I shake a hundred hands and get dozens of hugs. It takes me twenty minutes just to get beyond the front door. This is an even better feeling than at the courthouse. These are my friends and colleagues. Having them all celebrate this with me, it feels damn good.

"Welcome back boss!" Several of them yell.

"We always believed in you Mac!"

"Great to have you back!"

It's a far cry from being called "a monster" and "the disgrace of the NYPD".

Then, when I get to my office, it gets even better. There they are, my team, all of them standing outside my office, applauding and cheering like the rest. Every one of them gives me a hug.

Then it's Stella's turn. She comes up to me.

"Not going to slap me again are you?" I ask wryly.

She smiles. "Shut up and welcome back." She gives me a kiss on the cheek and hugs me, longer than anyone else.

***

After work, the whole team is treating me to a dinner at _Sal's_, one of the best places in the City for pizza and beer. I've always enjoyed the food here, but tonight, it's better than ever. It seems that everything is back the way it should be.

Except, it isn't. I still haven't been told if I actually get my job back. Sinclair stonewalled my calls all afternoon. It's the not knowing that is bugging me. It's putting a slight damper on my mood.

Stella seems to notice. "What's wrong Mac? I thought you'd be the happiest guy in New York tonight."

"I am, but it's … I just wish I knew what Sinclair was going to decide."

She looks surprised "I knew there was something I had been meaning to tell you. Everyone" she calls out to the rest of the team who quiet down and look at her. "I have good news; our threat worked. Mac has been rehired as head of the Lab." They all cheer and applaud and even offer a toast on my behalf.

"Threat, what threat?" I ask confused.

"Well, we didn't want to tell you but Adam and Hawkes circulated a petition today while you were down at the courthouse. It said that if Sinclair didn't hire you back, all those who signed it would quit."

"Who signed it then?"

She breaks into a big smile. "Everyone. Over 100 people in the Crime Lab, from other parts of the NYPD, even people from the DA's office."

"Over a 100 people." I repeat. I'm truly overwhelmed at the number. I'm quite certain I don't even _know_ 100 people in those places. I look at them all; the smiling, happy members of my team. No, they are more than my team, they are my family. "I can't think of a thing to say except thank you."

"Glad to have you back Mac." Stella says to me.

"It's great to be back Stella. It's great to be back."

_Well, it's done. Thanks to the following people who were so kind to review or contact me about the story: Wildweasel, catulicious, Rosa Atrus, dawn 2323, rocksmacked, lily moonlight, Andoran Ice Princess, csi kane, LilDevyl, and snowangel-983. A very special thanks to Storywriter who was kind enough to review each chapter of my work. I appreciate all those who took the time to read and review my tale. My next story should be started before the end of January._

_Thanks again:_

_88 aka J._


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